Drowning
by I Am The Wind
Summary: Xylia Icewood- Xylia, meaning 'from the forest'. A daughter of Demeter is sent away from camp to Forks, Washington. On a mission. Her purpose: the director-well, not really, but the real director is a lazy sloth- Chiron, has gotten a report from a frantic satyr. Monsters are loose in the woods. It's her job to destroy them. This is Xylia, and this is her story. Post TLH & Brk Dawn.


When they told me I'd be going to Forks, Washington, I flat out refused. It was stupid, ridiculous and absolutely irrelevant. Why should I have to go?

Now, I'm not whiny. I don't complain.

Ever, really. I'm tougher than that, and I know better to make someone's life a living Hades by adding my unnecessary two drachmas. But why should anyone have to go? We didn't have to. We didn't need to send someone away when they were better off here.

By here I mean the only (well, we're not so sure about the other place yet) place where people like me—us—are safe. Camp half-blood. And by us, I mean half bloods, children of the gods.

But then Chiron brought out the big guns. And no, it wasn't my mom. Although she was there too. He looked at me, his wise eyes impassive. "If you don't go, we'll be forced to send someone else. Someone less experienced than you, someone who would most likely get killed."

When Chiron's words sank in, I wanted to scream. Way to blackmail me. You might say I had the same fatal flaw as the famous Percy Jackson, which was sort of ironic, since he's my sort-of uncle/cousin.

Yeah, it gets better. See, I'm related to Poseidon. He's my grandfather. And no, my dad was not Percy's mysterious and virtually unknown twin brother. He died before the Big Three made the pact.

I was born before they made that pact.

No, I don't have gray hair. No, I'm not smarter than the Athena kids, (due to old age and long life) but I'm darn close.

When I was born, my dad had heard something about his father and uncles making a deal like to not have any more offspring. Basically, kill of each others remaining children.

Translation: He'd gone to see the oracle, who'd told him everything. He knew it was dangerous for me to be related to Poseidon, so he prayed to Aphrodite, the goddess of love and a good friend of his to take me and keep me safe.

After much debating, begging and groveling (courtesy of dear old dad) she agreed and took me with her to Olympus, placing a spell on me to keep me asleep until things calmed down.

Right after I was safe, dad got the Hades away from where he was and booked it…to the Underworld.

I know, funny place to hide. But he didn't go there to hide. He went there to offer Hades his soul, who (rather sadly, I'm told—Aphrodite told me everything) accepted it. He was impressed with my father's bravery and stuck him right in Elysium. But somehow, I woke up after a hundred years.

And yet my body grew very, very slowly—side effect, she guessed. My brain, however, shot ahead. So I've got the intellect of the average sixty-year old, but with better memory recall. I just don't use it often. I grew up around the gods, though. Aphrodite treated me like one of her kids, and since she swore on the Styx she was always there for me.

But not just because of the oath. I'm sort of like her little sister/best friend/daughter. It's complicated. Ares, Apollo, and Hermes found out about me. My mom didn't know, though.

I was raised amongst a total prankster, narcissistic/egocentric lunatic, and a guy whose passion was war, destruction, and more war. Ares trained me in the art of combat (no one at Camp has ever beaten me at any kind of fighting; ever), Hermes taught me how to be stealthy, sly, and cunning, while Apollo taught me archery. And Aphrodite gave me a great fashion sense.

By the time I was physically five, I knew how to deck a man five times my size no problem. But once I reached (physically, duh) sixteen, I was sent down to camp.

Anyway, Percy's sort of my uncle; but he doesn't know about me.

I got here after he disappeared. My fatal flaw would be about the same as his. Undying loyalty to those you loved.

To save one you couldn't let go, you would sacrifice the world. _That_ one. So when Chiron mentioned that, I caved. I couldn't let someone else go out there and most likely die.

Why die? Well, I'll get to that. See, a week ago Chiron got a report from a satyr stationed in Washington. The message was urgent, and had been delivered from dryad to dryad, tree to tree. They'd passed the message on 'till it had reached one of the protectors around Camp-half blood; who had sprinted up to hand it over to the ancient centaur.

Apparently, huge wolves the size of horses had been spotted running through the woods. Yeah, it totally whispered, "Beware, mortals. Vicious monsters afoot". And then it got weirder. A group of people had gone hiking, but hadn't returned.

People had later reported seeing strange beings, killers that moved at the speed of light. They couldn't see their faces, but all of them were pale.

And attacked people, draining their bodies dry. Sucking the blood. This one was practically waving a red flag in its little hands, screeching "MONSTER! EVIL MONSTERS! LET'S GO! WHOOHOOO!" And how do I know what the message said? Well, my mom had just read it out to me, her green eyes narrowed.

Right after that Chiron handed out my death sentence. I had to go and kill these beasts. And why couldn't someone who had my experience go? Because more than half the camp was on board the Argo II, headed towards Percy Jackson and the Romans.

Because I was one of the very few people that chose to stay that could actually fight, I had to go.

**Review, please!**


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